familiar smell of perfumed bliss overtook her. Like artwork on a life-sized canvas, splashes of color from lilies, pansies, orchids, cyclamen, bromeliads, and more accented the gorgeous shop, which was surprisingly devoid of Christmas decor except for garland and some prominently displayed arrangements boasting red blooms.
Several customers milled about, dampening the strands of classical music feathering from the radio on the desk.
“Hello.” A thin brunette with high cheekbones looked up from a large floral arrangement near the checkout desk. “Let me know if you need any help.” The woman’s British accent lilted in the shop and—along with her slacks, blouse, and the strand of pearls around her throat—gave the fortysomething woman a very prim and proper air. She turned her attention back to her arrangement.
“Thanks.” A variety of scents rose from the flowers set in vases along the wall of the shop. The honey-and-mint smell of freesias, the addicting bitter orange of daffodils, the syrupy sweetness of hyacinths—each one was intoxicating in its own way.
“We’re looking for flowers for my grandma. My aunt is a very talented florist.”
Eva cringed at the praise and prayed the woman would ignore Kylee.
But she looked up again and floated toward them, full of natural grace. “You don’t say. It’s always lovely to meet a fellow flower artist.” The florist clapped, a huge grin lighting up her face and softening her features. “How long will you be in town?”
“Till the end of March, actually.”
“Splendid, splendid.” The shop owner tilted her head. “If you ever want to chat flowers, I’d love nothing more. I get so inspired by others’ ideas. I’m Joanne, by the way.”
“I’m Eva and this is Kylee. And that would be fun.”
Liar. Because what inspiration could she offer? She’d quit because once Brent died, all her creativity had oozed like Jell-O down a storm drain. That, and she couldn’t take being around other people whose happy endings were just beginning.
Another customer approached Joanne.
“I’ll leave you to peruse then. Give a shout if you need anything.” Joanne turned to the waiting customer and followed her across the room.
The woman gone, Eva allowed the tears she’d held at bay to finally fall as she pulled a pink rose to her nose.
“You cry a lot, Aunt Eva.” Kylee’s words were tinged with sadness.
She’d nearly forgotten her niece was there. Eva drew her nose away from the rose’s heady smell. “I’m definitely more emotional than most, I guess.” She tugged her niece into a side hug, praying that wasn’t the wrong move.
But Kylee snuggled in, resting her head against Eva’s shoulder.
It took Eva a moment to form the words in her heart. “You know, when you’ve loved deeply and lost deeply, it’s okay to feel deeply.”
Sure, some people like her parents expressed concern that she still cried so much, as though there was a time limit on grief. But how was she supposed to move on from a love so great it had formed the very person she was? Though growing up she’d always felt like a bit of a square peg in a round hole, Brent had understood her, had given her a place to belong.
And without him, how could she ever be happy again? Yeah, she may be able to snatch pieces of color and pull bits of happiness into her world now and again, but all color eventually faded.
Every rose eventually wilted.
“Sometimes I wonder if my mom really loved my dad.”
Whoa. A heavy thought for someone so young. “Why do you say that?”
Kylee took a white rose petal between her fingers, stroking her thumb and forefinger across the silky surface. “I haven’t seen her cry since Dad died. Not even at the funeral. And they fought a lot before he died.”
“Oh, hon.” A few of her tears soaked into Kylee’s hair. “Every couple fights. Even me and Uncle Brent.”
“Really?”
True, it had been rare, but then again, they’d been so alike. What did they have to fight about? “Yeah, and we all grieve differently. Your mom has had to be so strong for all of you. To be honest, I don’t know if she’s really had a chance to grieve.”
Kylee pulled away, her nose scrunched. “It’s been a year and a half.”
Eva considered her answer before continuing. “Sometimes our feelings might not be in sync with the passage of time. One day can seem like a thousand years when you’re without someone you love. Other times a day passes without notice.”
The rose petal tore off in Kylee’s fingers. Her hand stilled, and she swallowed hard.